A Freedom Run
by inredrainboots
Summary: Bella is kidnapped by Edward, who claims they are soul mates. She plots escape, and is soon on the run for her life - or rather, the freedom to make her own decisions about the way she lives her life, and who she lives it with. This IS NOT a BellaXEdward romance. It is a BellaXJacob one, which doesn't really come into play until later, though they are dating from the beginning.
1. Taken

"FINE!" I scream at my boyfriend. Jacob looks pained as my heart shatters, but lets me walk out the door of the bar. I stagger down the sidewalk, slightly intoxicated, and swipe at my tears, probably smudging the mascara I so stupidly decided to put on. I don't usually wear makeup.

Suddenly, strong hands grab my waist from behind. I let out a scream, thrashing against my captor. They curl an arm around me, gripping my arm so tightly I know I'll have bruises in the morning, and slap a hand across my mouth. Panic rises in me. For the first time in a long while, I want to live.

As hard as I can, I bite down on the hand, which I am now sure belongs to a man, and taste blood in my mouth. Oh, shit. I really didn't think that through. I stop struggling as a wave of nausea rocks through my body and bile rises up in my throat. I'm not good with even the sight of blood – what did I expect to come of this?

He presses on my shoulders, surprisingly gentle, and I lower to the ground. I throw up, uncomfortably close to his shoes, and spit the remainder of his blood from my mouth.

"Put your head in between your knees, Bella."

"How – how do you know my name?" I shrink back, pure terror engulfing me as I finally meet his eyes before passing out from the lingering taste of his blood in my mouth.


	2. Conscious Again

**A/N: Okay guys. I got some flames, and some polite requests to change the character category this story is under. I'm sorry, to those people who were polite. The way has you upload stories, there is a section for characters, and you can add as many as you like, so I added Bella, Edward, and Jacob. I tried going back to change the order, for it to be Bella, Jacob, and Edward, but it didn't do anything, alphabetizing the order anyway. To be fair, I did say in the story description that this is not an EdwardXBella romance, so I wasn't misleading any readers. **

**I'm posting fan fiction because nothing will ever come of the writing, it's fun, and I want to get feedback on my writing style, grammar, etc. I didn't cry, but had a little teary-laugh over the reviews. I got cursed out, and told my story is shit. I will toughen up, but I am going to stick up for myself, okay? I don't know if some people had a bad day, but you could try to be polite. If you read this, don't feel too bad about it, but I wanted to point that out. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you by wasting about maybe two minutes of your life. **

**I'm trying to be mature about this, but I am a bit mad about the whole thing. Not about being respectfully asked to change the category this is under - of course not, I'm not that immature. But being unnecessarily cursed out, yes.**

**I did get two favorites and four follows though, so YAY! Thank you! I know my chapters have been short so far (as in, my author's note here being as long as the chapter, hehe), but I want to get at least one chapter written ahead of the chapters I post.**

I wake up in what I guess to be a queen sized bed, the most luxuriously comfortable thing I have ever lain in. I sigh in thoughtless contentment, only to turn my head at a soft chuckle to stare into the eyes from last night, memories rushing back.

He is seated in a chair by the bed, which I have a feeling he brought in just to watch me sleep. Creepy enough?

I pull the covers up more, to my chin, and instinctively shrink back, almost banging against the headboard. His eyes flash with something akin to a mixture of fierce anger and hurt.

"Please believe me when I say that I will never hurt you. Nor will I force myself upon you, besides a kiss or two." He has the audacity to _wink_ at me.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" I grab a pillow to throw at him – not that it would injure him in any way – but he is suddenly hovering over me, my wrist gripped firmly in his hand.

"Oh, I have a feeling you won't mind it so much. You see, my love, we are meant to be together." And with that, the bloody asshole presses his lips softly against my mouth.

A tingle runs through me, unexpectedly pleasant, and I resist the absolutely friggin' stupid urge to kiss him back. He lets me pull away and glare at him.

"GET OFF ME, YOU ASSHAT!" I kick out and, to my pleasure, come in connection with the place where the sun doesn't shine. He gasps and rolls away, curling into a fetal position.

I take the chance to clamber off the bed and make a break for the door. I push and pull, bang on it, uselessly shoving my shoulder against it, but the goddamn thing doesn't budge.

Suddenly, I realize that my sleeve has been pushed up in the process. Fuck. I tug it down, praying the bastard didn't see my scars.

Unfortunately, I can't catch a break.

He is at my side in an instant, pushing me against, the door by my shoulders. I whimper, unable to meet his gaze as he grips my wrist and shoves up the sleeve.


	3. A Reveal And A Deal

**A/N: Trigger warning, there are references to self harm in this chapter. I feel like all my stories on here so far mention self harm but it is quite relevant to the plot in this story. Promise, it's coming up. It's nothing graphic, or talking about Bella self harming, but it is referenced and is essential to the advancement of this story. Anywho, my lovely baby unicorns, enjoy. My chapters are slowly getting longer, and I am almost finished writing the next chapter so I decided to upload this one today because every installment is so short.**

**By the way, yes, you are all lovely baby unicorns because I have the magical powers to make that happen, even if I don't actually have magical powers, you are still unicorns. . . Okay, I'm confusing myself, but anyways, here ya go. Hope this author's note wasn't too annoying.**

**Oh, and to EdwardBellaRenesmeCullen: You obviously read the author's note on my second chapter, and still called my story shit a second time. So thank you for that. If you're so irritated by my story, stop checking up on it. Edward is relevant to this story, so I will list him as a character involved in this story. It is not labeled as a romance story. If there is much romance between Bella and Jacob, it will be in a sequel which will be labeled under Jacob and Bella. If there is romance during this story between them, I may consider changing the characters to just those two. In the meantime, I do not have anything against Edward, besides that as I read more fan fiction on here I begin to realize how controlling of Bella's life he is. I still like Edward as a character, though. This story just came out the way it did, and it works so I'm going with it. If you dislike Jacob so much, and if my story is such shit, then for goodness sake's just ignore it and don't check up on it. Thank you for your reviews, but please at least try to be polite.**

Thin white lines are stacked up my wrist, quite clean and orderly until they are broken up by diagonal purple scars, sometimes raised.

He lets out a cry of – despair? - and swings me into his arms, quickly curling around me on the bed and stroking my hair. Pushing on his chest does nothing – I'm not sure he even notices – so after a while I give up.

What could be minutes or hours later, he speaks.

"How long have you been doing this to yourself?"

"Why does it matter to you?" He sighs in frustration but doesn't pull away.

"I told you, Bella. I love you. We are soul mates." I sob, tucking my head into my chest and squeezing my eyes shut. How the fuck does this psycho know my name?

"Look at me, Bella." I give a feeble shake of my head.

"I am sorry for being, as you say, an asshat. I swear to never touch you sexually or kiss you again without your permission. I don't know what came over me – it was completely out of line on my part, and I truly am sorry. I do hope I can make up for it, and that you will learn to trust and love me."

"Please let me leave. I just want to go home. I promise not to press charges or tell anyone what happened. Please, I just want to see my brother again, and to see Jacob again."

"Bella. . . You know I can't let you do that. You have to stay with me. But -"

"But what?" I finally look up at him, hope flickering in my eyes.

"You can call Jacob, as long as you don't give anything away, to say good bye and let him know you are safe. But, you have to take a shower and eat some food. Of course, you can lock the bathroom door." I think for a moment. I'll have to play along, but maybe I can send a message to Jacob somehow without this guy realizing it. Slowly, I nod my head.

"Okay." A smile lights up his face and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear before pulling away and going over to a dresser I hadn't noticed before. Taking out a pair of sweatpants – pocketless, I notice, and a – he pauses – long sleeved hoody (also lacking pockets) he tosses them to me. He points to a door on the opposite wall and sits down with a news magazine.

I clutch the clothes to my chest and lock the bathroom door behind me.

Strip, ignore the scars, think of a battle plan. Keep as far away from the guy as possible until I'm able to escape. Send message to Jacob in the meantime.

But how the fuck do I go about it?


	4. The Phone Call

**A/N: 683 words without the author's note! Woo! I think this is the longest chapter yet. I know I said I was going to have two new chapters written before posting one, but I really wanted to get this up, so I made myself finish writing it. I'm not doing so well in school and I've decided, at least for now, to try my best to get my grades up. I also have to deal with emotional stuff right now, which is what's been inhibiting my school work, and writing fan fiction helps with that, so maybe I'll be pretty consistent with updates after all. Basically, I'm just not sure when I'll have the next chapter written and I've been eager to post this since I was close to finishing it. Anyway, enjoy and please leave reviews with constructive criticism! I want to make my writing better and reviews like that will help! So, if you do leave a review, thank you very much. If you take the time to read this story at all, thank you too. **

When I get dressed, I keep my tank top on under the sweatshirt. It was serving as my bra, and no way do I want to go without it, especially because I don't want him touching something so intimate.

When I go out, hair still damp, he has the equivalent of a school sack lunch sitting on the bed for me. Peanut butter and jelly, a bottle of milk, an apple, a salad, and a cookie. Oh joy.

"What, no crap 'healthy' chips?"

"Did you want chips?" His brow creases.

"I think someone needs to take the Sarcasm 101 course." I roll my eyes. He just smirks. Damn.

"Maybe you could give me one on one tutoring. We have plenty of time after all."

I decide engaging in much conversation is only encouraging him, even though I'm trying to irritate him. He doesn't need me egging him on, and I don't need to get pissed at the man who currently has so much power over me. I bite into my sandwich. I eat slowly to give myself time to think about what to tell Jacob. When I'm finished, he comes over and sits beside me, offering my cell. I take it, careful not to touch him.

"Can I please have a bit of privacy? It – it's just I'm going to miss him and really being able to say good bye will help me get over not being able to see him again." I rush forward before he can stop me. There are a few moments of silence.

"Alright, love. Just don't take too long. And remember – I'll be able to hear if you try to send him an SOS, so to speak." He narrows his eyes at me. I just nod. That's exactly what I'm planning on doing; I just hope I have enough time before he stops me. Thankfully, he steps into the bathroom and I back away from the partially open door, as furthest away as possible so I have as much time as possible before he hangs up the phone for me.

I dial a number I've known by heart for a little over four years now. I get scared as it rings one, two, three, four times, but then there is a much missed, and very irritated, voice.

"Bella? Where the hell have you been? I've been absolutely worries sick. I've texted you 17 times and left 24 fucking messages over the past 27 hours, losing sleep waiting for you to call back. I went to the police but they said it's too soon to file a missing persons report for a legal adult. You've never ignored me before what's wrong are you hurt in trouble -"

"Jake. Breathe, sweetie. I'm fine." I decide to give Mr. Creep (well, I don't know his name) some time to relax.

"Then where are you?"

"I – I can't tell you."

"Bullshit you can't tell me! What the fuck, Bells?"

"Just – I promise, it'll be okay." But my voice cracks on 'okay'.

"If you're safe, get your ass back here and explain this whole damn thing."

"Listen, Jake. It's for the better. I love you. So much – I'vebeenkidnappedhelpsomeguy thinkswe'resoulmateshelp -" The conversation is cut off as _he_ rips the phone from my hand and crushes it under his heel, banging his hand against the wall by my head.

"GODDAMMIT, Isabella Marie!" Oh lord. Please don't get violent with me now. Please.

I must have said something out loud, because the next thing I know his face is inches from mine.

"I _told_ you, I will never hurt you." He hisses.

With that extremely reassuring statement, he walks to the dresser, reaches under the bed, and begins to throw clothes into an indiscreet black duffel bag. Well, I guess it'd be too memorable to carry around a hot pink suitcase when you're trying to get away with abduction.

I stand in my corner, barely able to breathe from the shock of his explosion – I was apparently less prepared than I thought – and wait for him to speak.


	5. Moving Part 1

**A/N: 1,126 words! Yeah! I don't own Twilight.**

After he finishes packing two duffel bags and a computer bag he pulls from who knows where, he stands at the edge of the bed opposite from me, facing away. His fists clench at his sides.

"Come here, Isabella." I squeeze my eyes shut, frozen in place. "I said COME HERE!"

I walk forward, blinking away rising tears. I will not let him see me cry. I stand in front of him and stare at the ground. He pulls my chin upward. I will not show him my fear again. I stare into his eyes.

"I'm sorry for yelling." He sighs. The room is silent for a few moments. Is he waiting for me to say it's okay? He'll be waiting a long time. "We'll change your hair, and then you'll have to go to sleep for a while until we are moved to a safe location."

"You can't really believe that one rushed phone call is cause to move? No one will find us. God, I don't even know your name!" I scream the last sentence at him. He closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair.

"_I will not lose you_. And my name is Edward. Are you happy?"

"Edward who?" He snorts.

"Like I trust you enough to give you my last name after that. No, Isabella, you'll have to wait for that information. Now, go into the bathroom. I have scissors and hair dye in here somewhere." He starts rummaging around. I sigh and head toward the bathroom. Like I care if he trusts me.

It would make it easier to escape. Maybe I should have. . . stop thinking about things you can't change, Bella, and focus on what you can do. Okay. That's possible.

Edward walks in and looks at my reflection over my shoulder. He has messed up his hair even more. His green eyes are still dangerously pissed off, though he wasn't yelling anymore. He actually looked kinda stressed, with tense shoulders and a trace of. . . fear. . . etched across his face? Nope. He kidnapped me, and then he kissed me, and he keeps yelling at me. No pitying him. That's not a good survival tactic, Bella.

He puts a box of blonde hair dye on the counter and starts brushing my hair. God, I'm not three!

"I can do that, thanks." I reach behind to grab the brush but he grips my wrist with his other hand and lowers it.

"No. I'm doing this, Isabella. Just stand still." There is no room for argument in his tone. I nod and pretend I am a statue. It's a game my mother and I used to play when I was little. I was very fussy when it came time for her to brush my hair into a bun for ballet class. Instead of repeating the mantra the other parents used, "Beauty requires pain", or some other bullshit, she would promise that if I could be as still as a statue until she was finished, we would bake cookies together after the lesson.

I close my eyes and try to pretend that she is here now, brushing my hair, instead of Edward. As long as I don't focus on the fact that his hands are bigger than hers, it works. Sort of.

He slowly runs the brush through my hair, sectioning and smoothing it with his other hand as he works. I picture Renee behind me, my pink Barbie Girl brush in hand, telling made up stories.

Of course, it isn't possible for her to be the one behind me now. She never saw me reach my tenth birthday. She died the day before. Her boyfriend, Phil, took her out on his motorcycle to buy my birthday cake. Chocolate with strawberry icing. On the way back from the store, Mom was balancing the cake on her lap while she rode behind Phil. Apparently, it started to slide off and she let go of him with one arm to catch it. Stupid woman. He reached behind to catch her, thinking she'd fall, and so wasn't able to veer out of the way of the silver Volvo that crashed into them. The driver, a middle aged woman, was on a combination of morphine and vodka. All three died. The woman and Phil instantly – Phil had given Renee his helmet. Renee died of blood loss, holding him in her arms. The paramedics said that as they reached her, she wouldn't let go of him. They would have been too late even if she had – she died a minute after their arrival, and the last words she spoke were "I love you, my Bella."

If they had taken her car, if they had left five minutes later, if the woman hadn't decided to drown her sorrows in vodka, if she had taken a different road, if, if, if. . . So many ifs, and no way to change the past.

Did I mention they died right on our street, four houses down? I might have heard the crash and been able to see Renee before she died, except that I was too busy watching _Titanic._ I hate that movie now.

I bite my lip and try to ground myself. I don't want to think about her death. Focus. I can hear scissors snipping away at my hair. Edward seems to be styling it into a plain bob, both extremely different from my previously long, loose hair and absolutely forgettable. Then, I hear him wetting a hand towel. He squeezes excess water out and dampens my hair. The box of hair dye opens. He pulls something out and starts rubbing what I'm assuming is bleach through my hair. If we were on good terms, the feeling of his hands massaging my scalp would be relaxing. As it is, I get pissed off at myself for leaning into the feeling.

At least he doesn't laugh at me.

Edward spins me around. "Sit down on the stool there and lean your head back so I can rinse out your hair, please." I don't open my eyes but feel under me, lowering onto the smooth wood. Rinse, rub something else into your captive's hair, repeat. Dry. Finally, he sets everything down and I can hear him wipe his hands off on a towel.

"I'm done, Bella. Would you like to open your eyes so you can see?"

I open them to get a front row view of his crotch. _Eeww._ Okay then. Awkward. I swing my face to the side and lean away. Leading to my head connecting to the edge of the marble counter top.

"Fuck fuck fuckety fuck!" I rub the back of my head. Then, I start crying.


	6. Moving Part 2

"Bella! Love, let me look at it." I shake my head.

"It – it's not that, it's. . ." No. Bella, stop. No pouring your heart out to this guy. Let him think you're being a baby over a banged head.

"Then what it is it? Please, oh don't cry over this whole thing, you're safe. I can't bear to be the one making you cry, I promise it'll be okay, this is for the best -" He stops to place his hand on the back of my neck and pull my head forward. "C'mon, I'll make sure it isn't bleeding and get you some ice for it." I swat at his arms.

"No, I'm fine. Can we just get on with whatever you're planning? We have a new secret lair to get to, right?" I risk a glance into his eyes. He's pissed with me now.

"You are obviously not fine, Bella. What's wrong? What happened?"

"THIS WHOLE FUCKING SITUATION HAPPENED!"

Oops. No, Bella, you're not supposed to yell at this guy! He could hurt you, he could. . .

He turns away from me and starts running his hands through his hair.

"Can we please go now?" I whisper. He nods.

"Come sit on the bed, or lie down, or something. I - I have to give you something to knock you out, but it'll just be like you're asleep, so don't worry, okay?" Whoa. Is he about to _cry_? No. I don't care. He's the one that kidnapped me. No feeling sorry for him.

I shake my head, trying to clear the traitor thoughts from it, and walk past Edward to climb to sit on the bed. I close my eyes and feel a cloth pass over my mouth and nose. I take a deep breath and throw my hand across my heart, falling back on the bed.

Before everything goes completely black, I think I hear him chuckle and feel him kiss my forehead.

"I love you, Bella."

**A/N: The next chapter should be longer, but I felt like this was the right point to break off this one. Please review and let me know what you think, good or bad!**


	7. Moving Part 3

**A/N: 1,926 words minus the author's notes. This took me a while to write, hope you guys enjoy. Please review! Please? Also, I am not Stephanie Meyer. I do not claim to own Twilight.**

**Also, to hateme101: Thank you!**

**CUSpacecowboy: Thank you, and yes, I agree with you. Picking up a cake and holding it on your lap while riding a motorcycle is the stupidest thing anyone could do. Well, perhaps besides driving the motorcycle with a cake on your lap. And not buying another helmet when you are taking your girlfriend around on your bike. Bella both blames herself (she is Bella, even if she is a bit - a lot - out of character in this story, she retains at least a bit of the selflessness/guilt) and goes through periods of time where she is pissed at her mom and Phil, hating them and blaming them for dying.**

I open my eyes to the back of a smooth leather passenger seat, the smell of coffee, and the smooth chords of Claire de Lune. Edward's gaze meets mine in the rear view mirror.

"You're probably hungry. We'll stop for lunch soon." I nod. Yawning, I try to stretch, only to find that my wrists are bound by something soft. A blanket is tucked in around me to conceal them. How considerate.

In spite of my internal protests, my body relaxes to the familiar music. Edward's eyes narrow.

"You know DeBaussey?"

"My mother used to play it." I go back to staring at the passenger seat. He turns it up a bit and we drive in silence. The car seems to glide over the road so that it almost feels as if we aren't moving. I glance out the window, then squint up at the speedometer.

"Slow down!" For fuck's sake, does he want us to crash?

"We're not going to get in an accident, Bella. I drive like this all the time."

"We're going 105 friggin' miles per hour!"

"You're completely safe, Isabella." He speaks slowly as if to a child.

"At least slow down for my peace of mind!" I feel my heart rate increasing and -

"Breathe, Bella." He says, now concerned, and actually lowers the speed to around 86 miles.

I take a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Picture the box.

After my mother died, I landed in therapy. I also started to have trouble with anxiety, so on top of the and-how-does-that-make-you-feel shit, my therapist actually taught me some helpful breathing exercises to help calm down. I picture a box in my head, and follow the lines. Start at the bottom left corner, go up – inhale – going right, hold, go down – exhale – going left, hold, and so on, until I'm relaxed enough to handle the situation.

As I follow the box around and around, it leads me to thinking about the day my therapist, Ms. Susan, taught me the technique. I had begun panicking at the thought of talking about my self harm.

The razor blade! That's it. About a month ago, things began to get worse. I sewed a razor

blade into the hem of the tank top I'm wearing right now. I feel around for it under the blanket, by my left hip. It shouldn't have slid around. . .

"What are you doing, Isabella?" My eyes dart to him. Fuck. The blanket has shifted a bit off my shoulders.

"I have an itch." He nods.

Ah hah! After few minutes, I've cut through the seam. But shit, I drop it. Shit, I can't let him see my panic.

I try to feel around on my sweatpants and by my legs.

No, no, no. I can't have lost it, that was my slim chance at an escape, what the hell am I supposed to do?

"Bella!" I squeeze my eyes shut. Did he catch on to something? "Bella, love, what's – is there anything I can do?" Edward sounds kinda desperate, actually.

"Besides letting me go? No." He runs a hand through his hair, something he seems to do when he's stressed or angry. Part of me wonders where he picked up the habit. The rest of me wants to tell Edward to go fuck himself, and let his hair fiddling join in.

That doesn't even make sense.

This is what happens when _I'm_ stressed and angry.

Not that my thoughts make sense half the time anyway.

Stop the self pity, or whatever this is, and focus on finding the blade, Bella.

I resume the search, and – at last – my fingers brush against the cooler touch of metal under the edge of my thigh. Trying to hold back my sigh of relief, I carefully pick it up and figure out what to do next. I can't hold the blade in between my teeth and saw back and forth on the bonds. Even if _he_ wasn't here, it'd be tricky to do so with a small, handle-less blade. What if I swallowed it? That'd fuck me up big time, and I actually want to live right now, without having messed up internal organs, thank you very much.

What I'm guessing is five minutes later, I have bent my hand into an awkward, aching position and struggle to move the blade against the soft cloth-rope-stuff. I pull it as taught as possible in between my wrists and try again while trying to keep my hands from moving up and down too much.

A thread snaps, and after a while the bonds fall off. My hands are really cramped by now, and I gladly relax them in my lap, slightly flexing my wrists while keeping them in relatively the same position. I let the blade fall to the seat once more. I can feel a yawn coming on. I try to keep my eyes open. They slowly slide shut.

I wake up to the feeling of the car turning and coming to a stop. I open my eyes a bit but keep my head down. Edward is getting out to refill the gas tank. I don't have a clue where we are, but I do know that where there's a gas station, there are people.

If I make a run for it, the door could be locked, and then Edward would take away the blade, search me for more, and keep me "asleep" until he had me safely locked up again. It'd be near impossible to get away then, but I just can't let this opportunity slip past. When we stop to eat like he said, he'll probably come back to untie me.

Keeping an eye on him, I slowly slide the blanket off. He is fixated on the machine as he pumps gas into the car, head down. I reach out for the door to the car and grab the handle. Suddenly, he glances up.

I push it open and jump out as quickly as possible, then make a dash across the parking lot.

"Help! Someone help!" I scream as loudly as I can. I can hear him behind me, cursing under his breath. Right as he grabs me around the waist and I result to shrieking and kicking at his legs, a rather large man comes out of the store.

He is tall and extremely buff. He appears to be in his mid-twenties, and extremely in shape. As strong as Edward is, this guy looks like he could take him.

"Stop! Put her down!" His voice is deep, almost rumbling.

"Sir, you don't understand. My wife becomes slightly deranged at moments, we are on our way to find a doctor who can fit her needs. She is just having an episode."

"LIKE HELL I'M YOUR WIFE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! HE TIED ME UP, HE DRUGGED ME. HE KIDNAPPED ME, AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE HELL WE ARE. PLEASE!" I start sobbing.

A striking young woman of the same age comes out from behind the store with a shotgun in hand. This is a sharp contrast to her long blonde hair, well done makeup, and designer jeans. She levels it at Edward's shoulder. She better be a pretty good fucking shot. She and the man approach us; she comes at us from the side.

"Release her before I have to use this thing, douche." Her silk voice sounds so hateful that I can't comprehend it.

"There's no need for this. I'm trying to care for the safety and well being of my wife, as any good man would do." By her face, she doesn't buy his bullshit.

"Release. Her. Before I blow. Your. Fucking. Arm off. And make you. Trust me, you won't be much good for her while you're in the hospital, if you are telling the truth, which I doubt."

A few tense moments pass before Edward seems to slump in defeat. He slackens his arms around me and I stumble away. The man comes up leans me against his shoulder. Now that I'm, more or less, safe, all the fight seems to go out of me. He backs me up until we are a good twenty feet away, closer to the store doors now.

"Now get out before the cops arrive." The woman says. Edward stares straight at me.

"This isn't over, love. I will protect you, and I will prove to you how much I love you, and you will love me too, because we are meant to be."

There goes our fake marriage. Good fucking riddance, too.

I open my mouth, probably to say nothing, when a flash catches my eye. I glance over at the car we came in, soaking it in. There's not a huge dent anymore, but someone wasn't able to get it all out, apparently. I recognize the scratches on the hood, and the tiny spider web crack in the bottom right hand corner of the windshield. It is unmistakeable.

The silver Volvo that killed my mother.

I can feel my eyes widen, and I hear an animal dying. I realize it's me doing some sort of shrieking and sobbing thing. I can't tear my eyes away.

"No." My breath is coming in short gasps.

Everyone's eyes trace mine back to the car and Edward stares at me, bemusement and concern etched into his face.

"Bella? Isabella, what is it?" He tries to come forward but the woman cocks the gun. He raises his hands at her.

"Let me try to comfort her, please."

"Go. Away." She hisses. The man catches me as I fall to the ground and lowers me at his feet. He crouches down beside me and wraps me in his arms, stroking my hair silently. It would probably be a comical sight, with this giant hunched next to a tiny girl, if that tiny girl wasn't crying and if she wasn't me.

"Bella, what's wrong?" Edward's voice breaks.

"Go away. Get – get the fuck – away from me." I manage to get out the words. The man picks me up in his arms, bridal style, and I am grateful as we turn away and he shoulders us into the store. He goes behind the gas station's counter into a small private office and places me gently in a padded fold out chair. He squeezes by a desk, too large for the room, and starts on a pot of coffee. He soon hands me a steaming mug. We sit in silence. I am surprised his chair holds up, not because he is fat, but because he dwarfs it into child's furniture with his large stature and muscles.

Two cups of coffee later, the woman walks in, minus her gun.

"He left." She wipes her brow. "I'm Rosalie, but you can call me Rose. This is Emmett, my husband. You're safe now, okay? Would you like to call someone? Then we can get some food in you and figure everything out one thing at a time. How does that sound?" I nod, mute, and wipe away remaining tears. Emmett hands me a phone.

"We'll give you some privacy, Bella. . .?" Emmett says.

"Swan. Bella Swan. And thank you."

"No need to thank us." He passes by me and pauses for a moment before ruffling my hair. For some reason, this makes me feel even safer, and I actually laugh slightly. Rose shuts the door behind them.

I take a deep breath and punch in the numbers I could dial in my sleep.

**A/N: Sorry for the cliff hanger (sort of) but if I kept writing I felt like it would go on forever. Who is she calling? Jacob, or her brother? Either way, her brother will be introduced in the next chapter. Please leave your guesses in a review, it doesn't take long. Or please leave your opinions on my story. Constructive criticism is always more than welcome!**


	8. You're Safe Now

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter is bad and that it's so short, I had major writer's block here and it was definitely forced. I'm losing a bit of inspiration/motivation, but I'm not going to abandon this story, promise!**

**References to SH in this chapter, and a bit more bad emotional stuff like that, but I don't think it's anymore triggering than the letters SH.**

**To SaphireBlueAngelBlack: Thank you so much! It made me really happy to read your review. :) And yes, I completely agree that Edward is a douchebag. I don't quite hate him, but he's not the good guy in this story either. :P Anyway, we'll get a glimpse into his mind in this chapter, but I don't plan on making E.P.O.V's frequent; I just don't like writing from his perspective as much. It is necessary for the story though. Sorry I didn't have Bella call Jacob; after I read your review I seriously debated who she would call but I had already started writing the chapter and I think it works better this way. Bella does have a very close relationship with her brother, and she and Jacob had just gotten into a fight (which we'll learn more about later) before Edward the douche kidnapped her. Anywho, on with the story.**

"Hello?" My brother's voice floated over the phone.

"Kyle?"

"Bella? Bella, where are you? Jacob says you haven't been home in days."

"I – I need you to pick me up, please."

"Where are you?"

"Uh -" I want to smack my palm against my forehead. I didn't think to ask Rose and Emmett.

I walk out to find them behind the counter, talking in hushed tones. Emmett is facing the door, so he spots me first.

"What is it, Bella?"

"Where are we?"

"Oh, yeah, stupid me, sorry." He grabs a pen and a coffee stained napkin and scribbles down an address. I smile my thanks and go back in the office.

"I'm in. . . I'm in fuckin Montana." I read off the location. "And – and I don't have money. I don't have my own phone. I don't have _anything_, Kyle. I'm stranded." I sniffle. "I'm scared."

"Hey, lil' sis, it'll be okay. I'll be there in about 8 hours. I'm leaving right now. Who are you with?"

"I'm at a gas station. The people here helped me, Rose and Emmett."

"Do you trust them?"

"Yes, I do." It surprised me how naturally the trust came. Then, they did save me from Edward.

"If you can, call me every hour or so. Stay there. I'll be there soon."

"I love you, Kyle."

"I love you too, Bella. See ya soon." I nod.

No matter what, my brother has stuck with me. He's been by my side through everything – learning to ride a bike, my hamster Bill's mysterious disappearance (we later found out the cat ate him), our parents' divorce, their separate deaths, my drinking, my self harm, my suicide attempt. He was my legal guardian at the time, and he paid for the treatment center that the hospital government people said he should put me in. I stayed there for a couple of months. He came every visiting day, without fail, bringing a new book for me to read each time.

I can't begin to imagine what I put him through during those times. I'm not sure if he knows I still self harm. I don't want him to; I don't want him worrying about me more than necessary.

E. P. O. V.

I yank my car onto the shoulder of the road when I'm about a mile away from the gas station. I can't believe I let them take my Bella away from me.

My poor love, she must feel so alone right now. I wish I could show her how much I love her, and how we're meant to be. I know she'll come to her senses soon, once she stops fighting everything and gets to know me better, but until then. . . how am I supposed to keep her safe? She's gone.

I punch the steering wheel, setting the horn off. Dammit.

My mind wanders to Bella. Why did she get so upset right before I left? It obviously wasn't because I was leaving. I wince at the thought of her in so much pain.


	9. Not Lying

I lean my head against the car window and sigh, running my finger along the numbers Rosalie and Emmett gave me.  
"Whenever you're ready to talk about it, Bella." My brother says from the driver's seat.  
"He claims to love me." I reply softly.  
"So you ran off with him and it didn't work out?" I know he's trying to remain calm and non-judgemental, but I see his hands go white as they tighten on the steering wheel. He has always been fond of Jacob.  
"No."  
"Then what happened, Bella? Fuck, I drove eight hours to get you after a teary phone conversation. You owe me an explanation!"  
"He kidnapped me."  
"Stop fucking with me, Bella." I can't be hearing him right.  
"I'm not." He doesn't say anything for a long, long time.

Finally, he drops me off at my apartment and I'm waving bye to my brother.  
He refused to walk me to my door, but I called Jake right before we pulled up and asked him to meet me outside.  
I still can't believe my brother doesn't believe me.  
"Bella."  
I scream. "Jake! You scared the shit out of me!"  
He smiles sadly at me and scoops me into his arms. Unlike Edward's grasp, Jake feels safe and warm and good. I lean into him and feel a tear trickle down my cheek.

**A/N: Dudes! I know this chapter sucks. If you have any suggestions on improving it, you know, constructive criticism - much welcome. I was SO STUCK on this chapter that it's not even funny. So, I'm sorry for the wait, and I'm sorry it's bad and short. I know whats happening next, I just have to write it, hopefully well.**

**Basically, shit went down the past few months, but that's not a complete excuse, I could've written, but I was stuck, I was lazy, etc. So, I do apologize to you lovely readers! Every time I think about the positive comments I've received on here I smile. Thank you guys for that. That said, please continue to read and comment! **

**Hope you guys have a loverly day. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

"I love you so much, Bella. Why can't you love me back?" He whispers.  
"I will never give up on you, Bella. On us." He says after I don't reply.

**A/N: I know, you guys hate me.**

**Shizzles has been happening and just yeah. I'm finally understanding how authors on here can go so long without updating. It's actually quite easy, even if I don't want to. So yeah. . . .**

**I have been writing ahead in the story, so that's a few sentences from a future chapter. A teaser? Proof I am writing? Not much, but otherwise I would've given plot away. This way. . . hey! You don't even know who is talking! Cool! Though you can probably guess. . . . and are they talking in person or on the phone or even Skype? Hmmm?**

**I will try my best to write in the gaps and then start posting again. Thank you so much, guys, for supporting me and commenting and stuff. It has really helped keep my motivation up during a time when motivation for anything is severely lacking. And I love you for it. In the least creepiest way possible. So, thank you.**


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